


Much Ado About Ineffability

by JusticeforOphelia



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, a devious plot, but in my defense this is based on a Shakespearian comedy sooo, slow burn kind of, tbh this probably reads like a crack fic, there was only one braincell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28558656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusticeforOphelia/pseuds/JusticeforOphelia
Summary: Unfortunately, Anathema’s attention had already wandered back to Newt. Crowley looked back to Agnes, who had begun to make small talk with Gabriel.“I don’t know why you’re still talking, Crowley. No one is listening.” Aziraphale said, inspecting the state of his own fingernails. Immaculate as always.~*~The Much Ado About Nothing!AU That NO ONE asked forA tale of love and traitorous deceit! And snark. Mainly snark.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 15





	1. Act 1 Scene i

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, welcome to my Lit professor's worst nightmare! Sorry, Dr. P!  
> This is a Human AU based on the play "Much Ado About Nothing" By Shakespeare. This is such a bastardization though.  
> I'm outlining the rest so expect a chapter count by the next update. Speaking of, I hope to update this weekly but when the semester starts it will probably be biweekly.  
> This fic was beta read by bouquet_of_sharpenedpencils best beta ever <3 honestly so much hand-holding

The thing about living in Tadfield is that it’s actually pretty dull, but that made it a paradise for kids. To grow up in Tadfield was to develop a rich inner life out of necessity. And It served Aziraphale well when he moved to London for school. Now he’s returned, armed with an undergraduate degree in business and a Master’s degree in English. It was too easy to be comfortable here in his aunt’s home, where he spent so much of his childhood.

  
Aziraphale had been back at Tadfield Manor for the better part of a year while he found a location for his bookshop. This finally happened less than a month ago when Mr. R. P. Tyler died peacefully in his sleep. His corner location in Tadfield Square was perfect for Aziraphale’s needs. He just needed to convince Mrs.Tyler to part with the business and sign over the lease, but that was a problem for a different day. On this day, Aziraphale had planned to do nothing but lounge in the sun with his cousin and read his book. His aunt had even decided to join them on the back patio of Tadfield Manor.

  
“Ah, okay,” Agnes said, looking at her phone, “I’ve just gotten a text from Gabriel; he’s coming by this evening with some other guests. Well, I did say he could drop in anytime.”

  
Anathema tore her attention away from whatever interesting thing the rest of them couldn’t see on the horizon. “What, was the city so boring he decided to drive all the way to Tadfield for some peace and quiet?”

  
“From what I gather, he is coming with some business associates. He’s taking me up on my offer to use the house for a business retreat.” Agnes said to her daughter, who was already rolling her eyes before she had finished.

  
Her nephew seemed less than pleased by the news that they would be receiving guests. “Any word on whether or not Sir Grouchy Pants will be tagging along? Or do you think he’ll perish on the long car ride?” The book in his hand didn’t slip a centimeter as he rolled back his shoulders.

  
“I don’t know who you could mean, Aziraphale. No one by that name is coming this evening.” Agnes felt the gentle barb of Aziraphale’s displeasure and decided it was not worth the effort.

  
“He means Crowley,” Anathema said, smiling in her cousin’s direction.

  
“Oh, yes, he’s visiting, and I am sure he will be as cordial as ever.” Agnes shot a chiding look at Aziraphale, silently praying that he would behave in front of their guests. “Aziraphale, I’m warning you now, Gabriel and all his associates are our guests, and you will treat them with respect. I’m sure Crowley will be as much the gentleman as he ever was. I have never had a problem with him, and I would thank you not to stir up trouble. I know Anathema will rise to the occasion, won’t you, dear? You know Gabriel has always had a soft spot for you.”

  
Anathema piped up, immensely enjoying the scene that was building before her. “I don’t know about that, Mom. Crowley is such a gentleman. I think Aziraphale might be the one who will rise to the occasion.” She stood from the chair she was occupying to move toward the wine rack tucked into the corner of the patio.

  
Aziraphale bit his tongue and gave a loving but stern look at his cousin. She was teasing him, of course. Finding the right words, he said, “Oh, Anathema, you must know that when Crowley is around, the only thing that rises is the average number of arrogant pricks in the village.”

  
Agnes tutted, “See, that is exactly what I was referring to. If you keep up this petty battle of wits, you will alienate our guests.”

  
Aziraphale gasped in a fit of fabricated resentment. “I would hardly say it’s a battle of wits when the last time I spoke to Crowley; he had to slither away to tend to his shredded pride.” Anathema handed him a glass of wine and clinked it with her own. “It is a shame; when I face him next, he will only have a quarter of the self-respect he started with, barely enough to keep the poor man warm at night.” He took a sip. “Although I think you better tell us who else is coming tonight.” He crooked an eyebrow towards his aunt. “Every month, he has a new blood brother; who is it now?” he asked, taking another sip of the white wine Anathema had handed him during his diatribe.

  
“I see that Crowley is not in your good books, Aziraphale,” Agnes said, turning her attention back to Gabriel’s text message.

  
“Oh, good lord, no, I would burn my study to the ground if he were.”

  
Finding the information she was looking for, Agnes turned back to the pair chuckling at their jokes. “Along with Gabriel and Crowley, there is also Newton, who has apparently made himself indispensable to Gabriel and has become fast friends with Crowley. Joining that trio will be Gabriel’s younger sibling Beez who is trying to enter the family business. Poor dear, I don’t think it’s going terribly well.”

  
“Poor Newton. I’ll pray for the poor boy. May She spare him this serpent’s venom.” Aziraphale bowed his head and brought his hands together in mock prayer.

  
With a full evening to look forward to, Agnes left her daughter and nephew to their tittering. He and Anathema enjoyed another hour of this before the familiar crunch of gravel indicated that their guests had arrived.

  
The pair walked around the side of the house to the gravel drive. They could hear the metal of the old black car pop and settle after the long car ride. Aziraphale momentarily wondered whether or not it was wise to take a vintage car on such a trip. He decided he didn’t care.

  
Out of the car stepped four well-dressed individuals. ‘Well,’ Aziraphale thought, ‘three well-dressed individuals and one hellspawn in a skinny suit.’ The first to exit the car was Gabriel. They had met before. Agnes hired Gabriel’s PR firm to promote the Manor to business guests for team-building retreats. Aziraphale and Anathema pretended not to be put out by the idea of crowds of stuffy suits occupying the space they grew up in. To them, Tadfield manor was sacred ground.

  
The man stepping out of the passenger side was presumably Newton. He was nice looking. A bit scrawny for Aziraphale’s taste. Aziraphale turned to Anathema, who was eyeing Newton up and down in a way he recognized all too well. ‘Oh Lord,’ he thought, ‘here we go again.’ Gabriel reached back into the car to help out a much shorter and darker trim suit. The person who occupied the suit must be Beez.

  
The three of them stretched a little and began to walk towards Anathema and Aziraphale. Gabriel and Newt were smiling as they approached. Beez glowered; perhaps that was the most welcoming look of which they were capable. However, Aziraphale found himself looking back towards the car. As if to answer the question he was about to ask, the passenger side door swung open again, this time with Crowley toppling out in an incredibly clumsy kind of hopping motion. Trying to steady himself, he called out, “Aye, Newt. You’ve gotta let me out when you’re riding shotgun!” Unfortunately for Crowley, an apology did not come. Just as he had exclaimed, Agnes had come out onto the front terrace.

  
Gabriel took the hand she offered to him. “Ms. Nutter, I hope you excuse the trouble I am undoubtedly bringing into your home.” He flashed a smile that had probably won him awards in the past.

“Oh Gabriel, it is never any trouble to host you and your friends. It is only troublesome when you leave and deprive me of your company,” Agnes said, offering a smile that was far less flashy but somehow far more beautiful.

  
“You are too kind, Agnes. My, is this your daughter? How you have grown!” Gabriel turned toward Anathema, who seemed to be starting to doubt that dear old Gabe remembered her name.

  
“Yes, I was there when she was born. I can attest that she is mine.” Agnes replied with a wry smile.

  
By this point, Crowley had caught up with the rest of the group, still visibly annoyed. Straightening his posture, he shook Agnes’s hand. His smile was just as warm as Aziraphale’s aunt. Aziraphale pretended that Crowley’s lopsided smile didn’t make his stomach flip. “Would you have doubted it if you hadn’t been there, Ms. Nutter?” he said.

  
Agnes narrowed her eyes, looking for all the world like she was reading something on his face or behind it. “No,” she said plainly, not allowing for a retort from Crowley.

  
Aziraphale bit his lip to stop from laughing. However, Anathema, who had no subtlety, snorted. Crowley’s responding glare immediately put Aziraphale in a defensive mood.

  
“Well, if you are her mother, then she must have a fine head on her shoulders.” He softened his stony expression and nodded in Anathema’s direction. Unfortunately, Anathema’s attention had already wandered back to Newt. Crowley looked back to Agnes, who had begun to make small talk with Gabriel.

“I don’t know why you’re still talking, Crowley. No one is listening.” Aziraphale said, inspecting the state of his own fingernails. Immaculate as always.

  
It seemed that Crowley was looking at Aziraphale for the first time since arriving. A wicked smile crossed his lips. “Oh, wow, my dear Lord Disdain. I see you’re still living.” Crowley turned his head away from Aziraphale as if blinded by the sun but was waiting for a reply. What Aziraphale knew had once been an elegant top knot at the crown of Crowley’s head was now loose at the base of his neck. Pieces had slipped from the band altogether and were now framing the sides of his face. Not that Aziraphale cared about the state of Crowley’s hair.

  
“Is it possible that disdain could die when I have so much to feed on? Your attitude for one.” Aziraphale could tell that Crowley wanted to start their usual game of cat and mouse. Briefly, he wondered why Crowley wished to engage in this time after time. After all, it must be exhausting to be the mouse. Hooking an eyebrow, he waited for Crowley’s volley. He secretly enjoyed watching the cogs turn in his head.

  
“Why must you always mistake my courtesy for a bad attitude? I find it very easy to get along with most guys, apart from you. But it’s just as well. Men of your sort don’t always play fair.” In another context, to another person, this comment might have gotten Crowley a more robust reaction, the kind of reaction that ends in incident reports and ice packs on faces; but Crowley knew that his face would remain intact. As for his dignity, Aziraphale imagined he was less confident.

  
“Oh, what a relief for men of my sort,” Aziraphale snorted. This was the game: Aziraphale was clever, Crowley made innuendos, and not even well thought out innuendos. How his aunt could mistake it for a ‘battle of wits’ was beyond him. “Or men like me might have to put up with men like you. I thank God that She gave me cold blood. I would rather give up white wine and literary analysis than have a man like you hang around me.”

“I thank Her too, or else some other poor man might have tried to warm you up. It’s good to see that there’s no chance of that happening.”

  
‘Okay,’ Aziraphale thought, ‘that one stung a little.’

  
“Warmth. That’s almost funny coming from such a wily viper such as yourself.”

  
“Well, Lord Disdain, you have been the perfect teacher.” Aziraphale thought he saw a glint of victory in Crowley’s eyes. Crowley must have thought he was doing quite well this time around. His voice hadn’t even cracked yet.

  
“I’d rather be the Lord of Disdain than a Duke of Hell.” Aziraphale felt like he was losing. But that was impossible; he never lost a battle of wits. He was almost impressed. Almost.

  
“I wish my car drove as fast as your mouth. Might have gotten to Tadfield In half the time.” Crowley took a step forward toward Aziraphale. The smell of the engine had finally abated. Aziraphale thought he smelled something like citrus coming from his sparring partner. Citrus and a musk that did not make Aziraphale’s knees want to buckle. Luckily his knees knew better than to betray him like that. No, Crowley was getting entirely too close now.

  
A door closed. It was then that both Crowley and Aziraphale realized that they were not the only people in the world and that the rest of their party had wholly left them outside.

  
Aziraphale took a step back, “Best get inside.”

  
Crowley nodded in response, and they walked into the house. Aziraphale held the door open for Crowley. ‘Like a good host,’ Aziraphale lied to himself.

* * *

  
Upon entering the Manor, Crowley noticed that Agnes had made the foyer cozier since he was last here. He pointedly did not turn back to talk to Aziraphale. What was that moment in the courtyard, anyway? Why did Crowley get so close? ‘It was the euphoria of winning,’ Crowley decided. Obviously. Instead, Crowley continued to where Agnes was speaking with Gabriel and Newt. Beez, Crowley noticed, was in the corner pouring whiskey into a tumbler. Anathema looked like she was trying to engage Beez in a conversation. ‘Good luck,’ Crowley thought. He had tried his best to make nice with Gabriel’s sibling on the ride in from town but was met with the kind of brush off that left Crowley impressed. Obviously, he needed to work on his game. Refocusing, he met Gabriel’s eyes. ‘Fuck.’ He had missed something. “How are we doing, lads?” Crowley smiled. Foolproof. Pretend he hadn’t missed something. Never failed him before.

  
Gabriel widened his smile, probably to make up for Crowley’s lapse. “Agnes has just asked us to stay for the week. Fun! A week to use all the amenities we advertise on their behalf.” The hearty laugh that boomed from Gabriel could only have sounded genuine if you knew him well. Which, unfortunately, Crowley did.

  
“A week, aye?” Crowley took a tumbler full of brown liquid that Newt was holding. To be fair, he was holding two. It was reasonable for Crowley to assume one had been meant for him. Crowley drank some and looked round to where Anathema, Beez, and now Aziraphale were standing. Laughing. Crowley considered whether or not the jovial attitude Aziraphale was displaying was being directed at him. To mock him, of course. No other reason. “Don’t you think we could finish the inspections in a day or two? Surely we don’t need to intrude on our host past then.”

  
Another hearty laugh, Crowley did his best not to grimace at the sound. “We are not just here for inspections, Crowley! This is a break. We’ve had a great quarter. Let’s just relax this week. Ya?” The look in Gabriel’s eyes brooked no volley.

  
“Of course. We are fortunate to have the opportunity. Pardon my rudeness, Agnes.” Crowley tried for his least lopsided smile, failed, and tried to look earnest instead. “Thank you for your hospitality.” He said finally.

  
“You are very welcome. I am looking forward to getting to know you two better.” Agnes nodded to Crowley and Newt before excusing herself to join the group at the other end of the foyer. Gabriel followed her.

  
“Well, that went over like a lead balloon,” Crowley said to Newt.

  
Newt, with as much subtly as he could manage, said, “So what do you think of Anathema?”

  
Crowley looked slightly taken aback. Usually, Newt would let him wallow for a least a few minutes before changing the subject. “Ugh, you mean Agnes’s daughter?” As if she had a sixth sense, Anathema’s laugh carried across the room. “I think she’s weird.”

  
“I’m not joking, Crowley; I think she seems nice.”

  
“Why? I mean, unless she imparted some truly great remarks while I was speaking to her cousin, she seems completely unremarkable. Apart from her weirdness.” Crowley turned his attention back to what he had now identified as brandy. Taking another sip, he noticed the look on his friend’s face and nearly choked. “No, Newton. No. Come on. She lives all the way out in the country! If she’s just a bit of tail for this week, then fine, but don’t be getting that look plastered on your face.”

  
“A bit of tail? Can you really be so rude in the face of such beauty?”

  
“Yea, and a bit ruder besides.” But Crowley’s attempt at provoking Newt did not appear to be working. ‘Shit,’ Crowley thought, ‘he’s gone.’

  
He watched Newt stare in the direction of the rest of the party for several minutes before Gabriel tore off from the pack and strode back towards them. “Fellas! How are we doing? Look, I was just talking with Agnes and- Newt, what is happening with your face right now?” Gabriel turned to Crowley. “Is he okay?”

  
“I’m fine. Crowley, tell him I’m fine.” Newt said with a little more panic in his voice than Crowley felt was warranted. It was just Gabriel, after all.

  
“He’s fine.”

  
“Right, well, maybe your quarterly bonus was a little over-represented at our last meeting. Might have to crunch those numbers again.” Gabriel was joking, but the bait was just too delicious.

  
“Ah, Newt, I already put the down payment on that vintage Bentley. I really would cover for you, but the Bentley…” Newt’s eyes were bulging out of his head. He looked, well, like a newt. Crowley almost took pity on him. Almost. “He’s in love with Agnes’s weird daughter-”

  
“-Love is a bit much, Crowley.” Newt sounded a little betrayed. If Gabriel hadn’t looked so pleased, Crowley might have felt bad.

  
“Anathema!” Gabriel whispered. “That’s great! I’ve always thought she was hot, but Crowleys’ right, too weird for me. Well! This makes my news even better. Aziraphale suggested a costume party tomorrow night.”

  
Crowley had picked the wrong moment to finish off his drink. At the sound of Aziraphale’s name and his suggestion, Crowley nearly spit out his brandy. “He did, did he.” Crowley sent a glare straight across the room. He thought he saw the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth curl the slightest amount, although he didn’t turn toward Crowley. The devil.

  
“That’s perfect!” Newt said, “I’ll talk to her in costume and see if I can charm her into a date!”

  
“Alright, Casanova, slow down. How about this, I’ll talk to her mother and find out if she’s even available, and then I’ll see how she feels about you, ya? That way, you don’t go sticking your foot in it.” Gabriel clapped Newt on the back.

  
Crowley was far too distracted by the idea of a costume party to tell Gabriel off for patronizing Newt. ‘A costume party,’ he thought to himself, ‘well fuck.’


	2. Scene ii & iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scenes ii and iii are pretty short, so I decided to post them both!  
> The next chapter is the party! Merry banter set to ensue!  
> This fic was beta read by bouquet_of_sharpenedpencils best beta ever <3

# Act 1 Scene ii

Beez was doing an excellent job of expressing their discomfort with being forced into a _social situation_. There was a grimace on their face, their brow was furrowed, and they had barely said more than five words since entering the foyer. And yet, this girl (Anathema? Beez thought they remembered someone calling her Anathema) would not leave them alone. Beez hated this. When Gabriel returned from talking to Dumber and Dumbest over on the other side of the room, he sported a large bright smile that always made Beez’s blood prickle in their veins. 

“Well! Those two are having a good time. Told them about the party tomorrow. Now-”

Beez tuned him out. They could feel eyes on them. It was Anathema. “Can I help you?” Beez said quietly so that Gabriel would carry on and not try to talk to them specifically.

“Your aurora is a kind of reddish-brown right now.”

“Thanks, princess, but that doesn't answer my question.” Beez watched Anathema knit her brow together, but then her expression softened again. She nodded in the direction of a hallway, indicating that she wanted them to follow. Beez did. ‘ _Why am I following this witchy weirdo,’_ they thought while following said witchy weirdo down the hall and into a large kitchen area. 

Anathema grabbed a tin from one of the cupboards and hopped up to sit on the counter top. Popping open the tin, she held a few biscuits. “Want one?”

Beez just stared. _What_ was happening right now? “Why did you pull me into the kitchen?”

Anathema shrugged. “Your aura was reddish-brown,” she repeated, “When Gabe left to talk to Crowley and Newt, it was just red. When he came back, it became a reddish-brown. I figured you might need a break.” 

Beez made a face that looked half utterly offended and half relieved. She was right. Not about auras, obviously. That stuff is crap. But Beez definitely needed a break from their brother. Between the long car ride and all the socializing, Beez started to notice how drained they were. Beez grabbed a biscuit from Anathema, hopped to join her on the counter top, and _missed_. “FUCK,” they exclaimed while stumbling. 

Anathema made a motion to try and help them up, but before she could grab Beez’s arm, they said, “You lay a fucking finger on me, and I’m leaving.” Anathema retracted her hand. Beez picked up the biscuit pieces that had fallen to the floor when they slipped. Beez tried again, succeeding in getting on the counter top this time. ‘ _Stupid fucking Beez. What the Hell was that?’_ Beez could tell their face was red with embarrassment. “What color is my aura now?” Beez’s mocking tone should have told Anathema to just take another biscuit and sit in silence, but of course, she did not. 

“Mostly back to just red. There’s some orange percolating in there too. That would generally indicate that you are angry and exerting self-control.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Thanks for the biscuit, but I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to get to know me. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to do my fucking part for this company, and apparently, that now includes being trapped in the country for a week with my brother and his nincompoops.” Beez bit into the biscuit. Unfortunately, it was delicious, which didn’t fit their mood at all. 

Anathema got down from the countertop and put the biscuit tin where she had been sitting. “We don’t have any staff unless we are hosting an event. I do a lot of the cooking while my mom hosts guests.”

“Um… Okay?”

“What I’m saying is,” Anathema looked as though she was actively trying to keep the edge out of her voice, “that this space is almost always empty. And since we only found out you were coming today, it’ll stay that way all week. In case you need any more breaks from the _nincompoops._ ” 

Anathema walked back to the foyer, leaving Beez alone. Which is precisely what they want to be. They were sure of it. All alone.

# Act 1 Scene iii 

Eventually, the evening wound down. After dinner, Gabriel and his marketing team were shown to their rooms in one of the wings of the Manor. Meanwhile, Aziraphale, Anathema, and Agnes retired to their well lived-in conservatory. 

Aziraphale loved this room. It was located on the west end of the Manor. The late afternoon light made the room glow like heaven, casting everything in a tannish hue. Aziraphale thought that this was probably his favorite color. But like everything else in this house and, in fact, everything in Tadfield, Aziraphale had come to take this feeling for granted. He hardly stopped to notice the soft glow that radiated on every particle of dust that floated in the air.

“Well, that was something.” He mentioned as he sat down with a cup of tea. Day drinking was fun, but Aziraphale was already starting to feel a headache percolating through the back of his head.

Dinner had been pleasant. When Agnes sat down at the table, she took the seat directly between Aziraphale and Crowley. A not so subtle way of ensuring a peaceful meal. However, as the meal continued, Aziraphale found ways of annoying his nemesis from a distance. At one point, Aziraphale asked Gabriel about his car, which turned out to be a vintage Bentley that he was selling to Crowley. ‘ _Perfect_ ,’ Aziraphale thought as he spent several minutes telling Gabriel how _cool_ the car was, and how well it suited him and did he want to give something like that up? Crowley spent all that time seething over his curry. However, Agnes and Anathema did not seem to pick up on his mischief and had a perfectly ordinary dinner. 

“I had a nice conversation with Newt,” Anathema said. “Did you know he went to school for computer science but switched to business last minute?”

“Can’t say that I did,” Aziraphale replied. “However, I did notice you were ogling him all day. I imagine you’ll be having fun this week.”

“Really!” Agnes said with an air of surprise. “He does seem nice. Do you think you’ll spend time with him at the party tomorrow?”

“Probably, but I don’t know what he’ll be wearing. Why did you want to have a fancy dress party anyway, Aziraphale? Any excuse to wear some of my stranger clothes is fine by me, but don’t you think a fancy dress party in the middle of August is a little out of place?”

Aziraphale shrugged “I needed an excuse to hold a party. I’m hoping I can entice Mrs. Tyler into coming.”

“The poor dear. I’m not sure a costume party was the right call if you’re hoping a recent widow will drop in. Seems much too jovial.” Agnes commented. She was right, of course. That is, if Aziraphale's main goal had been to speak with Mrs. Tyler about selling her husband's shop. It was not. He shrugged again and sipped his tea.

Agnes turned her attention back to her daughter. “I saw you trying to entice Beez into further conversation. They’re so sour. I hope they are able to find some peace during the week.”

“I would describe Beez as having a melancholy disposition and an aura that could use some work.”

Aziraphale scoffed. “I tried to offer them a cup of tea when I went to make myself one, and the look they shot my way gave me instant heartburn. Now, if Crowley could take a page out of Beez’s book and learn to shut his mouth every once and a while. And Beez could stand to have some of Crowley’s levity, between the two of them, they might make an actual pleasant human being.”

“I don’t even think Crowley would need a full page. A paragraph out of Beez’s book would probably make Crowley unrecognizable,” Anathema inserted. 

“Tut tut you two! Aziraphale if you keep this up, I think you might never find someone to share a life with; and Anathema, I know you were raised better than to be so disparaging of our friends.” Agnes’s face lacked the sternness that usually accompanied such statements, and so the pair carried on.

“She’s right, you know. You will never find a man if you turn your nose up at everyone who crosses your path. Your standard might be set too high.” Anathema said.

“Why would you say my standards are too high? Just because my shrewd tongue scares away the weak-willed.”

“Aziraphale, you once told me that you would never date a man with hair past his chin.”

“That’s right. It always looks unkempt.” Aziraphale said, sitting up straighter.

“But then you also told me that you would never date someone with short hair!” Anathema shot back.

“Well, of course not! Those who keep their hair short have no patience to grow it out.” Aziraphale was feeling just a little defensive.

“But Aziraphale, dear, you have short hair.” Agnes chimed in.

“Well I have no patience, do I! This is exactly my point. A man with long hair is unkempt and not for me, and a man with short hair is impatient, and I am not for him. I really do not know how to make it any clearer. It is not that my standards are too high. It’s that I am utterly incompatible with anyone.” Aziraphale was doing his best to remove the edge out of his voice. He knew he had a tendency to come off as shrill and a bit fussy. 

“Are you resolved then to live out your days with your books and never find someone to share your life with?” His aunt asked with some sadness in her eyes. That wouldn’t do. 

“Why yes, Auntie, I will live out my days with my books, and one day I shall die peacefully in my sleep. I expect the next thing I know, flames will surround me, and the devil himself will wonder what I have done to deserve such a fate! ‘This is no place for a spinster such as yourself! No indeed, see Saint Peter, and we’ll see if we can’t straighten you out!’ Of course, I wouldn’t mention to the devil that God Herself wouldn’t be able to straighten me out with an iron. But I go to Saint Peter, and he shows me where Shakespeare and Keats are sitting, and I fill the next several millennia with debate and discussion. Peace at last!” He looked at his aunt, who smiled. _‘Objective achieved,’_ he thought as the conversation moved on to what they would be wearing to the party, and how many guests they could expect to come at such short notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out on Tumblr :) @justiceforophelia


	3. Act 2 Scene i Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I promised you the party scene. This is not the party scene. What I have written for the party itself did not meet my personal standards, so I've decided to give it a bit more tender love and care before posting. But not to worry! The build-up to the party is ready and fit for human consumption! I will likely have the party scene up soon, followed by intermission (backstory time!)  
> You also may have noticed that I have set a chapter count, this is tentative and subject to change, but 15 is where my outline is leading me.  
> This fic was beta read by bouquet_of_sharpenedpencils best beta ever <3

After a long afternoon in town, looking through the local costume shop and second-hand store, the PR team’s four members found outfits for the evening. Crowley, in particular, had a hard time finding an ensemble that he liked. This was, after all, a work trip. How much fun could he really have with the costume? Still, the opportunity was scratching an itch that had long gone ignored. Surely it wouldn’t  _ ruin  _ anything if he just… no, it was fine. Crowley would wear something boring. He’d keep his head down, and just go to the party wearing the costume he’d put together with 25 quid and a bit of imagination. 

Gabriel and Newt seemed to be genuinely pleased with what they had found at the costume shop. Beez even cracked a grin when they saw a costume with a figure clad in black with a mask. The outfit had been labeled “Pirate Farm Boy.” Crowley personally thought the model looked like a ninja, but he decided he was missing something obvious, in which a farm boy would dress like he was plotting an assassination. 

Upon returning to the Manor, Crowley threw his shopping in his room before retreating to the rarely occupied drawing-room. He planned to spend the rest of the afternoon with the spy novel he had brought from home, mentally preparing himself for an evening of expending social energy. Never something he looked forward to, and this was a  _ costume party. ‘Why would Aziraphale do this?’ _ he thought to himself.  _ ‘What kind of psychological warfare is he playing at?’  _ He tried to shake it off. Just pay attention to his book and lose himself in someone else’s questions.

The book Crowley was reading was quite good, actually. Soon, he was immersed in the story of sacrifice and deceit, a war that had long gone cold. With a feud this old, who was to say who is right or wrong anymore? His mind was focused on the leads, on opposite sides, but the connection between them was gravitational. Then he was thinking about other old feuds, and then blond curls and blue eyes-  _ ‘GOD dammit!’ _ He closed the book. Music. He would listen to music for a while.

About two 80’s rock-filled hours later, Crowley decided to get ready. He passed Anathema on the way to his room. He nodded politely in her direction but didn’t stop to chat. 

Crowley prided himself on his attention to detail. It was what got him good marks at uni, and it was what made him good at his job. Later, he would describe his inability to notice that someone had broken into his room and stolen his things as proof that he was overworked and stressed. He didn’t notice in actuality because his mind was thinking about a different party he had been to once... and the mistake he made. It wasn’t until he reached into the bag he had acquired only that afternoon that he saw it was empty. ‘ _ Odd,’ _ he looked beside the bed. Then under the bed. Then he tore into his luggage, looking for the pieces of clothing he had gotten for the party. Missing.

“WHAT THE FUCK” he exclaimed. Crowley kicked his suitcase. “GOD FUCKING-” one more kick for good measure. He heard a knock on the door.  _ ‘Ugh.’  _ Probably Gabriel coming to give him a stern talking to about professionalism. Best to just apologize. He opened the door, face still red, and saw Anathema.

“Hey- uh- are you ok?” Anathema asked with concern. 

“Ya fine. I’m fine. I’m sorry you heard that. See you at the party.” Crowley tried to close the door, but Anathema put her hand out. Not with enough force to stop the door from closing, but enough to make it clear that she wasn’t going to drop the issue. Crowley looked her in the eye, saw determination, and opened the door to let her into the room. “So it appears I do not have a costume for this evening.”

Anathema leaned on the door frame while Crowley walked deeper into his room. “What happened to what you got from town?” 

“It seems it was taken from my room.” Crowley tried to sound uninterested, as though someone had merely taken his leftovers from the fridge, but he failed. There was a bit of panic in his voice. It wasn’t that he cared about the outfit, really. But there was something about someone coming into his space and  _ taking _ that got his pulse racing.

“What!” She exclaimed, startling Crowley, who had not expected such a strong reaction. “Was your room locked?”

“Yea, it was.”

“Well, that is even less good. There are only two keys to this room, and you have one of them. You still have your room key?” Anathema’s brow was furrowed. Her face was a mixture of concern and anger.

“Yep,” Crowley replied.

“Ok, well, I’ll let my Mom know. I’m so sorry this happened.” She turned to leave when Crowley called out. 

“Wait! If you tell your mum, she’ll tell Gabriel. This isn’t worth all that. It’s probably a prank, someone… thinking they’re  _ funny _ .” It occurred to Crowley that Aziraphale might have been the one to sneak into his room. He would have access to the spare key, and if he was trying to embarrass him… No, that seemed like a line he wouldn’t cross. “You know Gabriel. He doesn’t have a very nuanced view of, well, anything. He’ll chalk this up to me being careless, which is  _ not  _ what I need my boss to be thinking of me right now.” It was true. Gabriel tended to _ victim blame _ , and Crowley didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that. 

“Well, ok, but this is serious, Crowley. If someone got into our key box, I need to know.” 

“Fine, but just you. Please.” Ugh, what was he doing? This girl didn’t owe him anything and, in fact, she had every reason not to like him given his history with her cousin.

Anathema gave him a long, deep look. He was starting to feel self-conscious when she finally said. “Alright. But what are you going to wear to the party?”

“Oh, screw the party. I’ll skip it.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew he didn’t mean them. He’d be damned if he shied away from the honey trap Aziraphale has so obviously laid for him. To  _ not  _ go was to admit that he was a coward. 

“No, then Gabriel would know something is up,” Anathema replied.

Damn, she was right. “Well, I will just not wear a costume then.” That could work. After all, no costume was better than not going.

“Nope, Gabriel knows you bought a costume today. He was with you.”  _ Fuck, _ she was right again. And smarter than Crowley had given her credit for.

“All right well, if you’re just going to be unhelpful.” What did he have with him that could pass as a costume? He didn’t even have his makeup bag, let alone anything  _ creative. _

As if replying to the thoughts passing through his head, Anathema said “Well I have clothes you could borrow-” Before she had time to finish her sentence, Crowley drew himself up to his full height and looked darkly at her.

“I don’t know what you think you know, but you don’t know me, and neither does your cousin.” He pushed past her out the door of his room. ‘ _ What the fuck, Aziraphale? How could you?’  _ Crowley’s throat felt a bit tight, but he pushed it down. 

“No, wait, Crowley! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to strike a nerve. Aziraphale hasn’t told me anything, and I don’t pretend to know you.” 

“Then what did you mean?” He said with the same roughness.

“I just thought, ya know, it might be fun. Since you don’t have a costume, and we’re probably the same size.” She smiled, trying to ease the tension between them. Crowley loosened a bit. She was genuinely trying to help. “What dress size are you?” She asked.

“I’m an eigh- oh fucking hell.”  _ GOD,  _ he was stupid. That was too easy to get out of him. He sat on the arm of an overstuffed sofa in the sitting area outside the guest rooms and dug the palms of his hands into his eyes. Crowley didn’t want to see the smirk on Anathema’s face.

“Right, I’ll be back with options. Should I bring my makeup too?”

“Yea, may as well.” Still, with his eyes covered, he heard her walk away. Well, he had to give her credit. His most closely guarded secret, and she had seen right through his defenses. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised you a touch of drama ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out on Tumblr :) @justiceforophelia


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